


Natural Progression

by vase



Category: RWBY
Genre: Crimes & Criminals, Gen, One Shot, Organized Crime, Origin Story, Original Character Death(s), Platonic Female/Male Relationships, Villains
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-10
Updated: 2015-02-10
Packaged: 2018-03-11 12:52:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3327572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vase/pseuds/vase
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When a young Roman Torchwick went to put down a couple of rats he didn't expect to run across their kid. Now he can't quite decide what to do about her. </p><p>Out of options a young girl with no chances steps into the criminal underworld of Vale under the wings of a killer. But it's just one step on a long road. </p><p>A story based on how Roman and Neo could have met and how their partnership may have come to be. </p><p>(Not romantic)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Natural Progression

Neo, or Neapolitan, an assumed name, looked over to the door where an exhausted, and clearly irritated Roman stumbled in. Of course much like her own Roman’s was an assumed name, frankly the girl doubted she’d ever learn his real name, assuming he even bothered to remember it. She certainly didn’t care to remember her own old name anymore.  
  
Shuffling the last of the paperwork to the side Neo rose from his office chair and let the redhead collapse there in her place. He nodded numbly before opening his scroll and typing away.  
  
When she’d first met him he’d just been the man, the man in her parents run down rat infested apartment standing over two dead bodies. The man looming over her, the man who was going to kill her, of that she had been so sure. ‘ _But it’s never that simple,_ ’ she thought, reaching for the coffee machine the young thief’s mind wandered.  
  
Standing over a twin set of corpses the redhead casually straightened his dark shirt, wishing he could have a smoke. He knew he probably should have felt something, but, well, they’d been rats that someone needed to deal with. And he couldn’t trust any of the idiots he had working for him to do a proper job of it. ‘ _Least the clean up should be quick, there’s even some nice booze here, so very nice of them_.’  
  
That was when he heard it, a tiny wisp like gasp of terror and he turned a knife already in his grip and came face to face with a tiny girl with brown, pink and white hair. She looked back at him, then her different colored eyes fell to the gun he’d thrown aside in thevery brief struggle.  
  
“Don-” The girl ran, diving to the floor she grasped the metal weapon in her too tiny hands just as his foot caught her stomach and flung her into the drywall with a thud. She gagged pathetically, still gripping the gun in a chokehold. His mind was as close to frantic as it had been since his first job, the boy, not even yet a man, had no idea what to do here.  
  
She looked up at him, the man was striding towards her, knife in hand. She fumbled with the gun, the man was kneeling down, she got her finger on the trigger, the man’s knife was sliding towards her throat. She brought the gun up to his face and pulled the trigger. There was a click and then deafening silence. She pressed it again, another click, again, again! She kept pressing, even as she felt the blade tip rest on her throat, not hard enough to pull blood, and then he smacked the gun aside.  
  
“I emptied it right after taking it from your mom kid,” he said. His voice was rough, but not nearly as deep or angry as she’d have expected. Seeing muggers and fights in the street she’d expected… More.  
  
“Now,” he said, his tone like that of a weary irritated shopkeeper who just wanted her to give the lolly back. “The way I see it, you have three options. The first is to die,” he said coldly, pressing the blade tighter against her throat, she only dreamed she could scream. “That’s the easy choice, no worries, no pain, no hunger. No fretting about whether you’ll be on the streets or thrown into whatever passes for an orphanage in this shithole before someone sells you.  
  
He looked put-upon, yet sounded almost amused, he continued. She was too scared try anything more, even as she refused to break her gaze from his. “The second is riskier, I knock you out and probably drug you up a bit. You wouldn’t remember much of worth, and who knows you might actually survive.” He said jovially.  
  
“And the last option is you stay very, very quiet; come with me, and I see if I can make something worthwhile out of you. The worlds always going to want someone who can pull a trigger without looking the other way. So, what’s your answer?” He whispered. In the man’s right hand was a knife, his hand was balled into a fist ready to stab or hit her should he need to. His left hand was open, held flat in the air and he met her gaze, measuring her.  
  
There was a moment of contemplation, then she took his hand. The man helped her to her feet as her stomach groaned as he guided her past the bodies. She tried not to look as he worked, but she listened all the same.  
  
In less than ten minutes she wore a faded hoodie and was walking down the street at the man’s side. Soon her home would be in flames, and no one would know there had even been a murder, the man had been very clear on that. She never looked back and never returned to that place, there was nothing to go back for.  
  
Soon after that day he became sir.  
  
“Fetch the red binder,” he said coolly, not looking up from the scroll.  
  
She was quick to obey, if there was one thing to say about the boss, he was at least always clear at least. So long as she didn’t mess up he was never bothered with her. Even if she had heard a few stray comments about him from his friends, or more accurately his employees. She got the impression that her boss didn’t have many friends.  
  
Passing him the binder she returned to standing at the desk side. He skimmed the contests, hmming on occasion, she saw this as his thinking face, when he had no reason to be happy or angry but just, thinking.  
  
“Come on, and carry this for me,” he said, casually passing her a small plastic red bag, it looked like something a kid would play with. “Be gentle with it,” he ordered as they made for the door.  
  
“Yes sir,” she replied, delicately cradling the red purse in her arms.  
  
It was a long walk, one spent in silence even as her stomach rumbled discontentedly. Normally she got all the food she needed, it was also, frankly, better than what she was used to in terms of taste. But they had a job to do and she had no intention of failing now.  
  
Finally they arrived at a park, it was wide and open and so much brighter than anything she’d seen before. Kids, other kids, were running all over the place, over grassy hills, between trees and playing on slides and things. She had never been here before, but her boss patted her on the shoulder and from beneath his hat gave her a grim look. This was business, the location was just one of his drop off points, a term she had heard him use before.  
  
“Run over to a man with short black hair and big sideburns. He’s wearing a white shirt, black pants and is sitting on the third bench from the right of the drinking fountain, down that path.” He gestured to the right. “Go that way, take out the brown leather case and and slip it to him,” he said dismissively, breaking off and into the crowd.  
  
Without thinking she ran, straight down the path passing the sandbox. Rummaging in the play purse she pulled out a small leather pouch only large enough to hold a key. But it wasn't her job to ask questions, she just had to deliver it. The man she was sent to find wasn’t hard to spot, reading a book on a park-bench, exactly where she was told he’d be.  
  
Her instructions were clear. For a moment she debated trying to pretend she was playing, to not look like she was doing something wrong. But really, she doubted she could pull it off, having never been to a place like his before and the other kids were just off putting. So instead she just tried to look relaxed. Tiny leather pouch gripped tightly in her sweaty left hand, but not tight enough she might break it, that couldn’t be allowed.  
  
Walking passed him, she succinctly twisted her lower arm, trying to avoid showing any other movement, and placed it on the bench. He didn’t seem to have noticed, ‘what now?’ That was when she saw him red haired, one arm raised lazily in the air. Quickly she waved back, both arms held wide she slapped her hand into his leg and watched as he snapped to attention and met her eyes, then sirs. He shrugged and faster than she could see grasped the satchel and returned to his book. Walking away quickly, hoping she looked embarrassed and not guilty of a crime.  
  
A free hand came down on her shoulder and he said, “Not bad, not good, but you didn’t screw it up,” he acknowledged dispassionately.  
  
She simply nodded and tried to ignore her gnawing hunger when he spoke again. “Here,” he said and in front of her face was an ice cream, pink, brown and white balls stacked on top of each other.  
  
In his own hand there was a can of Schnee cola and he waggled the treat in front of her face. She quickly took it, eagerly, lapping at the delicious frosty meal. Uncertainly she looked up at him and tried to speak.  
  
“Don’t give me that look, not like I used my money,” he muttered. Chuckling he half revealed a metal coin holder, the kind she’d seen street vendors were sometimes. _‘But those are on their belts how did he?_ ’ She dismissed the question and bowed her head in thanks as they made their way out of the park.  
  
It wasn’t long after that, that sir, became her teacher, her mentor.  
  
Mary, as she had taken to calling herself -because “Mr Candlewick” had needed something to put to a face- ran down the street. She bumped into a weary looking man in a light blue suit. Moving quickly Mary jammed her hand in his pocket and bounded away from his grabbing hands with her prize, a thin leather bound wallet.  
  
“Get back here you little, bitch!” he roared, chasing her down the street. Even with the training she’d been doing he was gaining on her. Would she go to prison would he pummel her senseless? Mary dismissed that thought with a shake of her head and ducked into an alleyway. Hoping to lose him in the winding paths that so few ever bothered to memorize, but she had, just as she’d been taught to.  
  
Mr Candlewick was waiting for her. Casually leaning up against the wall near a dumpster, that new white jacket he’d bought hanging from his shoulders. Mary couldn’t acknowledge him as she made to turn her the nearest corner. Another right and she’d be able to duck into an empty basement through a small broken window.  
  
Just as her pursuer turned the second corner of the alleyway, out of the sight of the street, Candlewick stepped forward. He only moved a little and slipped his foot between the mans before yanking it back. Mary watched as her pursuers head collided with the corner of the skip and he collapsed to the ground with a thud.  
  
She could see a nasty gash forming, though it hardly mattered. Mr Candlewick, stepped forward, gripped her shoulder and guided her away. Their pace was brisk and within ten minutes they were in an entirely different part of the city, a much nicer one, with police on the corners and everything.  
  
“Honestly kid, you never run, running means you either have somewhere to be or you’re trying to get away from where you are. And the only people who are trying to get away are the one’s who’ll be blamed when it all falls down, watch here.” Leaving her on the side of the corner Candlewick swaggered down the street like he owned the place.  
  
Throwing his arm around a man about his own age, wearing a surprisingly well made outfit, he cried, “Muroon, is that you!?” As though greeting an old friend.  
  
“What, who the hell are you?” The man snapped back, shrugging Candlewick’s over the shoulder hug off.  
  
For his part Candlewick backed up, both hands out flat he looked every inch the apologetic fool. “Sorry, sorry, you looked just like a friend of mine from school, heh, sorry buddy.” The man shook his head, probably cursing as he stomped off.  
  
The thief slid away and strolled down the street, an embarrassed grin on his face as he ambled through the crowd and back to her side. On his wrist there was a an entirely unfamiliar watch.  
  
Candlewick walked passed her and she made to keep up. Within minutes they were two blocks away and Mr Candlewick was passing her the wallet he’d also lifted from the man. ‘ _Just because_ ’. “See why my method works? Now, that doesn’t mean the hit and run isn’t a classic, but there’s better ways to do it. Come on, you need some practice on people more your speed, we are heading to Juniors.”  
  
An hour later they left Juniors, leaving the bartender twenty Lien richer and lots of patrons with an empty wallet. It hadn't even been hard, because really, what was the harm in letting the kid hang around, so long as she stayed out of sight.  
  
“I saw what you did with the cash register too,” Mr Candlewick added as they arrived back at his office, “Keep it, it’s not like it’s mine.”  
  
Mary just nodded, a little grin on her face.  
  
He was the one who taught her to fight and wield a gun, a sword, any weapon with deadly efficiency. He showed her how to clear a crime scene just like the one from so long ago. He’d become a sort of brother and father in all but name.  
  
Neo felt Candlewick’s hand gently correcting her arm and she pulled the trigger. Absorbing the recoil with ease, she watched as the target was obliterated.  
  
“Now, again,” he said casually, taking aim with his cane, using his left hand of all things and easily matching her shot.  
  
Neo breathed, focused and pulled the trigger. Then she pulled it again and again. Each time the bullet exploded from it’s container cutting through the air. Faces, chests, throats all of the targets were taken out with quick and brutal efficiency.  
  
“There ya go,” Candlewick said, sounding pleased. “Come on, we can practice again later and seeing that your aims isn’t worthless we can practice elsewhere. So lets go before they ask us to pay for all this.” There was an almost warm chuckle echoing from his lips as they slipped out of the gallery unnoticed by all. Leaving behind a twin set of illusions continuing to talk behind them.  
  
And she felt proud of herself as she felt her Semblance bleed away as they disappeared into the crowds.  
  
Now though, things were different between them. Now he was whatever name he chose and she was the same, they were partners, allies, friends.  
  
Fingering her umbrella she could still remember when that first seemed to click in her mind.  
  
Neo shuffled through the financing accounts, for the third time. After Roman’s short term arrest last week a decent number of their buffer accounts had been bled dry. Whether by cops or traitors, well, that was her job to find out. The door to her office opened and Roman stepped in, his injuries from the arrest long since healed he looked every inch like the master criminal he was.  
  
The only oddity were his cane hanging from his elbow and a small box clasped in his hand along with a sealed letter.  
  
“Our mysterious benefactors offered me the location of one of our rats, aren’t they kind?” he smirked. Of course they weren’t going to go after that one themselves. Much safer to let someone else prove their loyalty that way, preferably while under observation.  
  
The redhead dropped the parcel on her desk and began rifling through her most recent fiscal report. The implied order of ‘ _open it_ ’ was not missed on Neo.  
  
Delicately, as if handling an explosive, and knowing Roman that was quite possible, she pulled the pink ribbon away. Opening the white box lid she gently removed a pink parasol. Excellently made, just running her index finger along the material she could tell that much, ‘ _Dust_.’  
  
Roman tossed the papers down on the table and turned to leave, “You’ve been needing something like that for awhile now. I’ll take you out and we can make sure your aim hasn’t floundered while I was away, but first we have a meeting.”  
  
“Thank you, I, where did you get this?” she asked. Roman didn’t respond as she expected, no name was forthcoming, no casual dismissal. He just waved his hand and motioned for her to follow. ‘ _Did he actually-_?’  
  
Roman was already moving down the hallway. For a brief moment she clutched the gift to her chest, a peaceful smile overtaking her face before running out the door and after her partner.  
  
Neo looked at Roman, who was giving her and the umbrella an empty eyed stare, she motioned for him to say something and he muttered. “Nothing, just feeling nostalgic I guess.”  
  
She snorted and passed him a coffee. He grinned back and said, “I know, I guess it happens to the best of us." He took a sip of the coffee and shot her a look, “Sugar?”  
  
Neo smiled and nodded, before returning to her own work. A spoonful of sugar helped even the worst of things go down sweeter, or so she’d heard.  
  
Roman chuckled and muttered something under his breath. It almost sounded like, “Don’t know what I’d do without you.”

**Author's Note:**

> This idea was, mostly, inspired by the Roman is Neo's dad idea, which I actually do kind of like. Though the final scene was something I imagined for a comic, sadly I can't draw. I posted it to SB so I hope people enjoyed this piece. 
> 
> This was all self edited so if anyone has any critique, suggestions or corrections I am eager to hear them. 
> 
> I have some mixed feelings about this, namely the handling of Neo's voice, I tend to imagine her as either mute or lacking in a tongue to explain her silence and I'm a tad nervous about how the shifts in character perspective came across, but I hope it works well.


End file.
